


Down the spiral groove

by vain_flower



Category: Far Cry 4
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Drug Use, M/M, Shotgunning, Topping from the Bottom
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-08
Updated: 2014-12-08
Packaged: 2018-02-28 17:24:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2740784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vain_flower/pseuds/vain_flower
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A secluded cabin, a snowstorm, high quality weed, and two men who have been dancing around their attraction to one another for some time now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Down the spiral groove

**Author's Note:**

> I’d say I’m sorry for the clichéd set up but that would be a fucking lie.

The cabin is quiet, the only sound the fire crackling away in the hearth.

Ajay stands by the window, gun in hand, glaring out at the landscape, or what he can see of it. There’s a thick blanket of snow on _everything_ , and more of it coming down like it won’t stop until the whole damn country is buried.

"Ajay," Sabal says, coming up behind him and touching his elbow, "there are times when you can't act. I know it's frustrating."

"I should be out there," Ajay insists. He needs some sort of outlet for the restless energy building in him.

"Doing what, brother? Freezing to death? I’m sorry, but I think we’re going to be snowed in for awhile.”

Ajay's frown deepens, but he knows Sabal is right. With a sigh of defeat, he holsters his gun and sets his equipment on the little rickety table. 

When he turns back, Sabal squeezes his shoulder, his eyes soft, expression empathetic. He’s probably well acquainted with Ajay’s frustration. He drops his hand from Ajay’s shoulder and sits on the edge of the bed in the corner of the room, hunched over, elbows on his knees and chin resting on one hand. He looks pensive, serious.

Sabal sighs after a minute, expression lightening. “Well, brother,” he says. “If we’re going to be stuck here, we may as well make the most of it.”

Ajay tilts his head, but Sabal isn’t looking at him, having turned to root through the drawer set into the bedside table. For lack of anything else to do, Ajay sits next to him as he pulls out what looks to be a cigar box.

“Though inaction can be frustrating,” Sabal says, “it’s also important to know how to be still, brother. Rest and reflection are important; without them, we can lose sight of our goals.”

He flips open the lid of the box and the cigars are--well, they’re not cigars at all. Roughly the same size and shape, they’re green and tied with twine. Each one has a thin stick that they’re tied around.

“I, uh, thought you meant meditation or something,” Ajay says. He wonders what Yogi and Reggie would think of these. They look intense.

Sabal smiles. “Well, if you’d rather,” he starts, trailing off into a chuckle at whatever he must see on Ajay’s face. “I didn’t think so, brother. Though in some traditions, the two are one and the same.”

He pulls one of the blunts out and sets the box on the bedside table. He unwraps the twine and pulls the stick out from the center, and lights the end with a zippo from his pocket. The smoke he exhales is thick and pungent. It reminds Ajay strongly of his high school years.

Sabal holds it out for him to take.

“This is just weed, right?” Ajay asks.

A smile spreads across Sabal’s face. “Did you want something stronger?”

“No,” Ajay says quickly. He’s had enough mystery drugs to last him this trip to Kyrat. He takes the blunt and their fingers brush.

_Way too much like high school_ Ajay thinks, a strong wave of deja vu hitting him; he feels like he's back in his childhood bedroom, toking up with a friend during a ‘study session’.

The memory feels like it belongs to someone else and he shakes his head to dispel it before bringing the blunt to his mouth and inhaling.

He’s not sure what to expect, ends up dragging in too much, exhaling it all in a series of coughs that leave his throat and lungs burning. A second drag helps, and smoke blurs the air between them.

Ajay hands the blunt back, still coughing a little. “I thought you disapproved of this kind of shit,” he admits.

Sabal takes a slow drag, a considering look crossing over his features. As he exhales, he sits back further on the bed, leaning against the pillows and crossing his legs. “Cannabis isn’t opium, brother,” he starts. “And recreational use of it isn’t contributing to the drug state Pagan has been turning Kyrat into.”

Sabal watches Ajay watch him, the look on his face hard to read. He holds the blunt back out for Ajay to take.

“Makes sense,” Ajay concedes, taking another drag. He holds the smoke in his lungs a few seconds, exhales slowly and then takes another hit. His fingers are already tingling and a layer of cotton is making its way over his tongue. Whatever this shit is, it’s _good_.

Sabal smiles at him then, sitting up and crowding into Ajay's space to take the blunt back. He’s very close, and very warm, seemingly oblivious to the way Ajay watches him as he blows several smoke rings that float through the little cabin.

Ajay lifts his hand, looking to get another hit, but Sabal waves him away, taking another drag. Ajay is put out for a moment, quoting Reggie in his head: _puff, puff, give_ , but before he can say anything to that effect, Sabal is leaning towards him, obviously holding the smoke in his lungs and--

Oh.

_Oh._. Ajay has a moment of indecision, but it’s really the easiest thing to lean in, let Sabal tangle his free hand in his hair and slot their mouths together. His heart hammers in his chest, but he opens his lips when Sabal does, inhaling as the other man exhales smoke into his mouth.

Sabal pulls back, but not away, staying close enough that Ajay can feel his breath on his face. Sabal’s eyes are dark, indecipherable. 

He brings their mouths together again, no smoke between them this time, but there’s still the taste lingering on their tongues. Sabal licks into his mouth, holding Ajay in place with the hand still in his hair.

It’s terribly tender, the way Sabal kisses him, unhurried, nearly reverent. 

Sabal breaks the kiss only to push Ajay down on the bed, looming over him. He takes another drag off the blunt and leans in to share the smoke with Ajay again, moving his lips over Ajay’s long after the smoke between them dissipates.

Ajay’s limbs feel heavy and he can feel himself smiling. Sabal is smiling too, still above him.

"If this is your idea of relaxing," Ajay says, "you should have just said."

"Hmm?" Sabal asks. "So earlier when you were glaring out the window I could have offered to suck you off, and you'd have taken me up on it?"

"Shit," Ajay says, picturing Sabal on his knees, that fucking mouth on his dick. " _Yes_."

Sabal throws his head back and laughs, a slow, beautiful sound. He snuffs out the burning end of the blunt in an ashtray on the bedside table and goes to kiss Ajay again, making a pleased noise as the younger man pushes up onto one elbow to meet him halfway. There’s something so hot about the way Sabal’s hand goes to his hair again, tugging so he has Ajay right where he wants him. 

Ajay moans into his mouth and any patience Sabal had left seems to evaporate. He’s pulls away, looking down at Ajay with a hungry expression and his fingers touch the skin exposed where Ajay’s jacket and shirt have ridden up.

“Come on, brother,” Sabal says, voice low as he pulls the zipper of Ajay’s jacket down. “I want to get a good look at you.”

Ajay nods, eager, but his hands feel thick and slow as he tries to sit up and shrug out of his jacket. “You, too,” Ajay says. 

Sabal discards his own jacket on the floor. His shirt follows some time after, along with Ajay’s own, and there’s no telling where any of it lands. Sabal’s fingers are practically trembling when he helps Ajay shimmy out of his jeans before following suit. Ajay doesn’t know if anyone has ever looked at him the way Sabal is now, his gaze laser-like in its focus, dangerous and intense in the best kind of way. Ajay swallows thickly; his mouth and throat feel like cotton. He’s about to push himself back into a sitting position, but Sabal stops him with a hand to his chest, still content to just look.

“Come on,” Ajay says, hardly recognizing his own voice. “Come on, Sabal.”

Sabal moves then, finally, and Ajay registers it in slow motion as the other man presses their skin together in a tangle of limbs. Their mouths collide like their bodies, Sabal’s tongue flicking against his own and Ajay moans.

Sabal’s weight on him is good, too, dick pressed against the jut of his hip and Ajay’s own trapped between their stomachs. The fire is not really enough to heat the room to a comfortable temperature for their lack of clothing, and the heat of his body is a welcome respite. Ajay runs his hands down Sabal’s back, lingering over the scars he feels there. 

Sabal pants into his mouth, hips stuttering, so Ajay’s touch grows bolder, running the edge of a fingernail down the most prominent scar. Sabal curses, sinks his teeth into Ajay’s lower lip. He tongues the bite afterward, and Ajay moans at the sting of it, but the little pain is only stoking the heat growing in him.

Sabal pulls back after a moment, supporting his weight with his elbows as he looks down at Ajay. His hair has come loose, and it hangs in his face. His eyes are cast in shadows thrown from the fire, but there’s no mistaking the hunger in them.

"Done this before?" Sabal asks. 

Ajay licks his lips, watches Sabal track the movement.. "It's been a long time," Ajay admits. He wants to say _too long since there’s been someone I trusted with this_ , but he manages to hold his tongue. 

Sabal smiles, and it’s all teeth, predatory. Ajay’s heart leaps. Sabal gets a good grip on his hair again and pulls, exposing his throat and Ajay’s breath hitches when the other man leans in and sets his teeth against his jugular. It feels incredible, sharp bites and soft kisses all over his neck; his jacket is going to be shit at covering the marks up, and Ajay wonders if that’s Sabal’s intention.

He bites his way down Ajay’s chest, but his mouth is soft over Ajay’s nipples. Ajay shudders, eyes rolling up into the back of his head as Sabal flicks his tongue rapidly over one while viciously pinches the other. Ajay’s hips have started moving of their own accord, rolling in jerky, uncontrolled thrusts that drag his dick across Sabal’s skin.

Sabal’s hands go to Ajay’s hips to still them, smirking up at Ajay when he moans in protest. Ajay’s dick is leaking all over his own stomach and he _needs_ , oh, he needs. Sabal looks entirely too pleased with how well he is undoing the younger man. He leans in again, and Ajay thinks for a moment that Sabal will finally give him attention where he needs it the most. But he’s very careful to avoid contact with Ajay’s dick, his mouth moving instead to his sides.

Ajay makes a strangled, surprised sound, trying to twitch away from the ticklish sensation, but he’s trapped under Sabal’s weight. Ajay can’t decide if Sabal’s teeth on the sensitive skin of his sides hurts or tickles or just feels fucking incredible. Sabal seems to relish the half laughs, half moans coming from his throat, and the way the bites are making Ajay squirm.

But then Sabal is biting over the jut of his hipbone and Ajay moans, high in his throat. _Finally_.

The first touch of tongue is a blessing and Ajay cries out, trying to fight against Sabal’s tight hold on his hips. Sabal’s tongue is too soft, sweet little licks that only drive him crazier instead of satisfying him. Ajay’s hands go to Sabal’s hair, fingers tangling in the thick strands as he tries to guide Sabal to take him fully into his mouth.

“Easy,” Sabal murmurs, breath warm against Ajay’s dick. “I’ll get you there, brother.”

Ajay groans in frustration, but lets Sabal keep teasing him. He can’t seem to untangle his fingers from Sabal’s hair, no longer trying to guide, but still clinging, as if to an anchor. He keeps trying to roll his hips against Sabal’s grip; it’s maddening to be forced into this stillness, completely at Sabal’s mercy. 

Ajay can’t believe the noise that comes out of his throat when Sabal’s mouth leaves him. Sabal laughs, low and wicked, murmuring,“Don’t touch yourself,” and getting Ajay to remove his fingers from his hair.

Ajay grits his teeth, tangles his fingers in the sheets instead. Sabal is rifling through the bedside table again and Ajay swallows thickly when he pulls out a small bottle of lube. Ajay hadn’t been lying when he had said it was a long time, and his stomach does a nervous little flop.

Sabal goes down on him again, and Ajay figures it’s to distract him, but he never feels probing fingers at his entrance. He pushes shakily up onto his elbows and looks down at Sabal, a little thrill running through him as he sees Sabal working his fingers into himself. _Shit_.

Ajay manages not to moan this time when Sabal pulls away, but it’s a near thing, and only because he knows what’s coming next. Sabal straddles him, holds the tip of Ajay’s dick against his entrance. Their eyes meet, and Ajay is entranced by Sabal’s expression as he sinks down.

Sabal leans forward, hands on Ajay’s chest and mouth open to suck in air as he seats himself fully. Ajay’s hands go to his hips, hold him there for a moment. Sabal feels incredible around him, hot and _tight_ , and Ajay never wants this moment to end.

But Sabal takes a breath and lifts himself up slightly before sinking back down with a shudder. Ajay is content to let Sabal take the time finding a rhythm; enjoying the feel of him clenching around his dick, and watching his face as he rolls his hips in maddening little circles. Ajay is still gripping his hips, probably tight enough to leave bruises, and the thought makes Ajay’s fingers tighten further. He wants those bruises blooming on Sabal’s hips, wants to, in a few days, put his mouth on them and make Sabal moan.

Sabal’s eyes open. He still looks flushed, a little overwhelmed, but still like something dangerous, and Ajay wonders where all the air in the room has gone. Sabal starts moving with purpose then and with no hands now to keep Ajay’s hips from moving, he matches Sabal’s rhythm eagerly. Sabal tilts his head back, riding Ajay with graceful movements that threaten to end this embarrassingly quickly. 

But if Ajay’s going down, he damn well is going to take Sabal with him. He fumbles for the lube Sabal had used earlier, hands skimming blindly across the sheets for the little bottle as he doesn’t want to take his eyes off the other man. When he finally finds it, only about half of what he pours out ends up on his fingers, the rest of it spilling messily on the sheets.

Sabal seems amused by the display, but his smile disappears when Ajay gets a hand around his dick. His movements become considerably less fluid, hips stuttering as Ajay flicks his thumb over the head of his dick over and over again. Ajay can see the tension in Sabal’s frame, from the quivering muscles of his abdomen to the clenching of his teeth. Sabal’s eyes are screwed shut and he’s letting out these beautiful half-formed noises that drive Ajay fucking _wild_.

He keeps jerking Sabal, movements a little less coordinated because goddammit he is fucking _close_.

Sabal’s movements, too, have lost their easy grace from earlier and he looks like a fucking glorious wreck, hair stuck to his face, every muscle taut and trembling as he slams his hips down against Ajay’s.

Sabal comes first, splattering all over Ajay’s stomach as his cock jerks in the younger man’s hand, but he _stops moving_ , hips stuttering to a halt as he hunches over and gasps for breath. Ajay’s hands fly to Sabal’s hips, desperate not to lose that rhythm, guiding him in those last few thrusts he needs to find his own completion.

Ajay swears, just a low mantra of _fuck, fuck, fuck_ until he’s finally at that precipice and throwing himself over, gladly losing himself to the tightness and heat of Sabal’s body.

Neither of them move for a long moment. Sabal is leaning over him, arms on either side of Ajay’s head, though they tremble from exertion. Ajay makes a low noise when Sabal finally moves off of him and collapses on the bed next to him.

Ajay can’t seem to move from his current position, too fucked out and still too stoned to be any kind of coordinated, but Sabal lays on his side, pressing kisses to Ajay’s shoulder as they both work to catch their breath.

“I almost wish we had some more snow days coming soon,” Sabal says, hips lips brushing against Ajay’s skin. “But I imagine this will be the last of these storms this spring.”

Ajay wants to say something like _I’ll just have to stay through the winter then_ or _when this all blows over we won’t need the excuse_ but just the thought of saying them aloud makes him pause.

The future has always seemed hazy and indecipherable to him, but the feeling is amplified now. All his focus has been on finding Lakshmana; he hasn’t given much thought to what he’ll do after everything that’s happened to him here. 

What he finally says is, “I’m sure we can find some time off between _terrorist activities_ to spend together.”

Sabal laughs and pushes himself up onto one elbow, leaning in to capture Ajay’s lips with his own. “Yes,” he agrees in between kisses, “I’m sure we will.”

**Author's Note:**

> They're smoking a 'thai stick', idk man the internet told me they're great.


End file.
